


Present and Accounted For

by flinchflower



Series: Slash Me Twice [33]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Psychic Abilities, Spanking, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-16
Updated: 2011-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 03:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 33: Present.  Missouri begins to help Sam get control over the visions (S2ish) - and she's never really gotten along with Dean.  She makes good on her threat...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Present and Accounted For

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not for profit, simply a writing exercise. Herein lies Dean/Sam slash, in an AU timeline where John did not lose his life. John appears in parental context only. Follows in series from previous prompts, but stands alone if preferred.

Typically, Missouri opened the door before John raised his hand to knock.

“Well, you boys get inside now. Bags by the front door, yes, there, that’s right, Sam. Into the kitchen with the lot of you, and wash up, there’s supper waiting – I’ve a client in a half and hour, so don’t you dare dawdle!”

Sam gave her a sheepish grin and led the way – John had to grab Dean and push the older boy ahead of him, and he heard a soft laugh from Missouri behind him. She’d never taken too well to the boy, the times his sons had gone to see her, and he hasn’t been quite sure of why. Though if he behaves like this every time… There’s a thick soup on the table, and bread baked fresh, which they make short work of. Missouri sips at a cup of tea, asking John about the drive, and he can tell that she’s observing the boys.

“Now then,” she says as they finish up in record time. “Dean, you’re to get upstairs to bed – don’t you dare argue with me! The first room on the right has a bunk bed in it, John’ll have to take the top bunk unless one of you boys fancies sleeping with him snoring in your ear, the lower bunk is a full size bed. Sam, I’ll be an hour, no longer, and you’re to spend that time getting yourself calmed down – yes, I see you’re anxious! You put that nonsense aside, now, boy, and think about how you’re going to explain what’s been going on to me, you’re here for this, we start tonight.” She lifts a finger as Dean opens his mouth again. “Don’t even, she warns. “There’s calamine lotion upstairs for you, and John may stay and keep an eye on Sammy. I’ll be back in an hour.” She turns to leave the room, and then pulls back around, yanks Dean from his chair and gives him a little push up the stairs. Sam is awkwardly trying not to smile, and takes refuge in turning to the sink with a double handful of dishes, running water to wash up.

John’s not so reserved, he lets go with the chuckle and puts coffee on. Sam takes a thoughtful seat at the kitchen table after he finishes washing and drying, stacking the plates neatly on the counter to avoid prying through Missouri’s cupboard. John’s already rifling through his journal, and starts when Missouri comes back into the room some time later.

“All right, Samuel. We start at the beginning. Meditate. Right now – don’t you argue, either.”

John laid his pen aside to listen. Missouri led the boy through a series of meditation exercises, getting him to ground and protect his energy – things Sam apparently has had some rudimentary training in already, much to John’s surprise. Then she started to challenge him, trying to distract him while he ran through the exercises again and again, worming bits of information about the sensations he experiences during visions. John was about ready to put a stop to the whole thing, seeing how agitated his son was becoming, when Missouri finally sighed, and reached out with a kind hand to brush a stray lock of hair away from Sam’s tortured face.

“Bed for you, boy. We’ll work with it again tomorrow – I have an assignment for you that’ll take most of the morning.” She looked searchingly at him. “No, you’re not going to hate me by the time this is over. It’ll be fine, Sammy, really. Now off with you. Matter of fact, John, shut that light, and we’ll all go. You’re looking tired as I feel.”

Years of experience, John knew better than to argue, and simply hustled his youngest upstairs to wash up and crawl into the bottom bunk were Dean lay, stiff and rigid shouldered. John sighed, and hoped there wouldn’t be an argument. Sam was asleep before his head hit the pillow, and John climbed up to the top bunk a little stiffly, and lay listening. He drifted off to the sounds of Dean shifting to curl up to Sam.

The morning, on the other hand, was not so peaceful. John blinked awake, and recognized the dulcet tones of his oldest son arguing with Missouri. He groaned and hauled himself out of the bed, checking reflexively to see that Sam was still sleeping, and peacefully. If there’d been dreams, he hadn’t heard them. He could tell from the tone of Missouri’s voice that he wasn’t going to make it downstairs in time, as he heard Dean tell her how unreasonable she was being, laced with a couple choice swearwords. He winced, and stopped at the door of the kitchen, simply leaning up against the doorframe.

“I warned you last time, boy! You don’t get the grace of a second warning, your Daddy taught you better than that. Now,” The small woman gave a powerful yank, and Dean stumbled towards her, surprised, and unable to fight back - his attitudes towards women as the weaker sex made him vulnerable there, and John fought back a laugh. Missouri pinned the boy against the kitchen table, and came down hard on his backside with a wooden spoon.

Dean’s eyes flew wide open, and he stared directly at his father lounging in the doorway.

“Dad! Make her stop! Dammit, Missouri- OW! Let me up, dammit!”

The spoon began to fly faster, swatting Dean’s pajama covered backside over and over again with rapid slaps that echoed loudly in the small kitchen. He was squirming under her tight grip, and finally turned his red face away from his father, realizing John wasn’t going to make a move.

“Let’s get the rules straight right now, young man,” she said, pausing with the big spoon poised to swat back down again. “You’ll behave yourself while you’re here, or I’ll have you over my knee, let alone have your daddy take you out back and bend you over the back fence. You’ll do as you’re told, be supportive to your brother, mind your tone, and so help me if I hear any foul language or backtalk!” She waited, then brought the spoon cracking down another half-dozen times. John winced – she had quite a swing on her. “I can’t hear you, boy.”

A choked sound that sounded relatively like “yes ma’am,” came from Dean’s squirming form, and she let him up. He was beet red, and didn’t quite meet her eyes. Her voice gentled some.

“Now then. You’re to be resting, Tess told me as how you needed some rest yet, but there’ll be a few chores for you to do here and there. You can start with going to get your brother up, and down here for some breakfast.”

He gave her another mumbled assent, and approached the doorway where John leaned tentatively. John felt for him – Dean was embarrassed as hell, but John had been afraid of what Dean might do if he hadn’t been present to temper the boy’s response. He slipped into the hallway with his boy, a hand on Dean’s arm. He was sure Dean just wanted to get the hell away, but far be it from John to pass up a golden opportunity.

“Same rules apply here as they do at Bobby’s or Jim’s, Dean.”

His son stared at him as if he’d grown horns.

“I’m serious, Dean. She lands so much as a swat on your backside, and I’ll double it. Consider this your get out of jail free card, Dean.” He lays a gentling hand on Dean’s shoulder. His tall son looks about sixteen, his hands surreptitiously sneaking back to protect his backside, though Dean’s trying to conceal the gesture by sliding a hand up to scratch at his back. John simply swats the boy’s hand away from scratching, and Dean nods.

“Now. I don’t want to see you and Sam down here for another hour or two.”

“But she-“

“Sam needs the sleep. I’ll talk to her.”

Dean takes the stairs two at a time, and slides home into bed beside Sam, burying his face in the pillow. He’s startled when a tentative arm circles him, slides down his back.

“Sam. Cuddling.”

“I’m tired, dude,” Sam offers, his best excuse.

“You heard.”

“Heard what?” Sam’s sleepy voice is curious.

Dean buries his head in his pillow. “Go back to sleep.”

“No, what?” Sam shifts, and manages to poke Dean’s thigh, and he can’t quite keep the yelp back, and then Dean’s groaning as his little brother comes fully awake, pins him, and peels back Dean’s flannel pants.

“Wow.”

“Shut up.”

“Only if you kiss me.”

Dean turns startled eyes on his brother. They’re in Missouri’s HOUSE for God’s sake, and- the rest of his thought is cut off by the sensation Sam’s providing. Except he can tell from the intensity – or lack of it- that his brother’s still tired, and eventually he just pulls the boy into his arms. Sam settles with a contented sigh, and promptly drops back to sleep.

Hours later, they’re standing side by side in the kitchen while Sammy gives Missouri a bright smile, saying, “Present and accounted for, Ma’am. What’s on today’s list?”


End file.
